2015.04.13 - Attack of the Groundbeefians
It's one of those days. You know, the perfect early spring day, late afternoon. The sun is still high enough in the sky to cast a golden glow across the water, and it's warm but not too warm. People all around are enjoying the treats and diversions of Coney Island, whether wandering along with hot dogs and funnel cakes in hand or riding the roller coasters until they want to puke but end up eating more cotton candy, instead. So it's crowded. So it's noisy. It's classic Americana: a diverse blend of people all cramming their time full of a narrow selection of activities and their bellies full of an expansive variety of calories. What's not to love? One such visitor is Bart Allen, currently in his Impulse guise, and he's passing out flyers, buttons, caps, and other "Young Justice League" promotional materials to all the kids he encounters. Which means no cotton candy, no hot dogs, no funnel cake. But at least he'll be able to tell Wonder Woman, or whomever else might ask, honestly that he successfully gave away the last of the charity give-aways. Because seriously, have you ever tried lying to Wonder Woman? It's not worth it. So, Impulse is being dutiful instead of indulging himself in cheap thrills or sugary junk food. What a rip. Of course, if he knew about the spatial rift opening beneath the Big Belly Burger promotional tent and the strange aliens emerging from it, he might be much more excited about the whole thing.... Sugary junk food? Like the plastic bag full of cotton candy suddenly dangling in the air behind Impulse's head? Attached to that bag? Well that'd be Superboy. The teen of steel is back to 100% and in a brand new costume. He was gone all yesterday but he's back in Metropolis and decided to come see how his friend is doing after hearing about his job. "Hey, Impulse," he greets in a vaguely sing-song manner, holding a hot dog for himself in his free hand as he hovers above the speedster. Something isn't right. Matt finds himself at Coney Island in the late afternoon, walking along the boardwalk with Foggy who, for better or worst, seems completely oblivious as he dribbles on about some case or another that might actually net them a 'real' profit. Something they could see, smell, possibly collect in an oversized vault and swim in. "Matt, are you listening to me?" One hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other wrapped partially around the white and red stick tapping the ground to either side of his feet as they walk, Matt actually isn't listening... at least not to Foggy. Not directly, anyways. Something is wrong. Matt can feel it in the air, sense some twisting unusualness that is leading his footsteps, for better or worse, towards Big Belly Burger. "Yeah, I'm listening, Foggy. I just don't think taking a case for unpaid parking tickets is a strong reputation builder... I don't care how rich the client is." "He's VERY rich, Matt... just think about it alright?" Foggy laments, taking a bite of his hotdog, and blissfully, dutifully, not feeling any of the out-of-placeness that Matt does beside him. Rocket Raccoon who's here just confused and amused at the silly hairless apes that call this mudball at the ass end of space home. But at least their entertainment, in particular the movie Beaches, and it's food is pretty good. And well... this Coney Island with all the crazy food sounded right up his alley. Of course, at under 3' tall he often gets confused for a child... so he's surprised when a flyer is shoved into his hands as he passes a strange young human in a costume. And then swiftly gets a pin and a hat and blinks a few times. "What?" He hasn't noticed the portal yet... because he's just looking at the person who just have him things. "Young Justice League?" He asks... perking a brow at Impulse. Quite possibly the only person... entity or... demigod... capable of detecting the rift and doing something about it.. At least in the near vicinity... is facing quite the opposite direction. As in.. straight up. At a height of nearly 60 miles straight up.. just barely below the Karman line.. that is... the edge of space and Earth's atmosphere.. Blue Beetle is at rest, facing the great beyond, sensors on full. He's staring at the galaxy around him, straining his considerable senses/ors outward and marveling at just how big it all is. Oh course the intergalactic bug on Jaime's back already knows how big the galaxy is... down to the measurements.. but Khaji stay's quiet while Jaime is doing this. But a moment later Khaji HAS to speak up. Jaime Reyes.. we should return to your planet. there appears to be a dimensional breach of some significant size being opened in New York City.. I'm detecting class...3... no... class 4 entities emerging from it. Likely not friendly. Shall we intercept? Turning effortlessly in the very near vacuum.. Jaime grimaces.. "Always badguys needing the beatdown.. Yeah's.. lets give'em a warm welcome to Earth. And send 'em packin." He mutters aloud. Wings spread wide and thrusters emerge from beneath them, propelling the bugsuited teen downward at an incredible speed. Impulse jumps a little in surprise at the sudden voice behind him--hey, he was distracted, okay?! Spinning around to face Kon, Bart blinks a few times and says, "Oh! Hey! I didn't know you had to give out free buttons and t-shirts, too." He's distracted by the cotton candy, eying it desirously, but manages to control himself. After all, he's representing the team! Meanwhile, he half-notices Rocket still standing there and hands him a t-shirt. "Here, kid! I think this one's about your size. Tell your parents to sign you up for our Young Justice League Bookface club, and remember to 'like' us on Pinstagram!" Matt Murdock is the first to draw near the tent, and his keen senses may pick up on a muffled scream, then the clatter of metal as a pan of perfectly good burgers is dropped to the ground. A moment later, even those with less than keen senses may notice something: the side of the tent busts open, and a mid-twenties-looking dude who has all the signs of "unemployed recent graduate of an English major," dressed as a fry cook, emerges, sprinting for all he's worth with arms pinwheeling. He screams in horror, "It's the BURGER MEN! They're here for REVENGE!" And then he vanishes into the crowd, leaving behind the faint aroma of something a bit smokier and considerably more herbal than anything Big Belly Burger has on the menu. A half-second later, the opposite end of the tent explodes open, and a trio of towering, monstrous creatures--each looking like nothing so much as a twelve-foot-tall lump of raw hamburger with tentacles--emerges. One turns to another and says, "''--Ooops. I think I used an explosive charge instead of a time-phase inverter. I've alerted the natives to our presence.--''" "''--Fool!--''" cries the lead creature, "''--Now we'll have to pursue them! You know that physical activity makes Earthlings taste terrible!--''" Seeking to be helpful, the third alien says, "''--Perhaps Earthlings in this dimension are better free range? Their Internet is discussing it as a technique for raising their young.--''" "''--Silence! Harvest the Earthlings before they escape!--''" And, each producing what can only be described as a classic ray gun, the aliens begin to flow forward with impressive speed for their ungainly frames. Predictably, the crowd erupts into panicked screams and begins to run for their lives. "Kid...." Rocket offers as a T-Shirt gets shoved into his hands. And his brows knit just a bit in a bit of frustration at this. "Kid?" Is he gonna have to start wearing a sign. This is as bad as that crazy lady who thought he was one of her charges. "Goddamn dog... I know he passported me to that Daycare on purpose." Yeah, Cosmo still has a habit of messing with Rocket. Especially when Rocket is visiting Earth for a social call. Rocket moves to reach up and tug on the front of the Impulse's costume. "Did you just.... SHIT!" Rocket shouts, trying on some of the colorful language of the Earh rather than his usual language. Sorry teens. "What the Flark!?" Rocket reaches down and stuffs the shirt under his belt as he whips out his chromed blaster pistols. "I don't," Superboy replies, eating half his hot dog in one bite. "I gave out posters and t-shirts ages ago. I came by to see how you were doin'," he says. "And bring ya a treat," he taps Bart with the bag of sugary treat. His brows arch up behind his sunglasses when he notices Rocket. "The hell..." he trails off quietly. Before he can say anything though, super hearing picks up on someone screaming about revenge and then there's an explosion. He drops the treats he was holding, straightening up in the air and looking around quickly. Seeing the massive meaty creatures, his jaw drops slightly. "...and I thought the cloth eatin' Teddy Bears were weird..." There it is. There's the money shot. "Matt, you all...right..." Foggy fades off as he hears the scream and the eruption of the tent spilling forth misbegotten youth and education to streak past them towards the crowd, "Do you need a lawyer?!" Shouted after them. "Stop that.." Matt warns, snapping his cane out to stop his friend from advancing on the tent any further. There's an odd scent in the air, mixed in the foggy aroma of their college dorm room, the odd hint of meat... "Foggy, run!" Shoving his pal in the direction of the crowd as he too ducks away just a hair trigger before Aqua Team Hunger Force burst out of the meat shack with ray guns and commentary on modern free range parenting as it relates to a menu that includes human. Being as he's blind and all, it is easy to believe that Matt gets lost in the crowd, ducking into another tent so as to remove his button up shirt and wrap a dish rag across his eyes. His stick is broken down quickly into a pair of batons and he bursts out the other side looking not terribly unlike hobodevil. The man without fear or class. High above the fray, the Blue Beetle comes soaring in, shifting his mass in midair. Benefits of a partially inter dimensional armor.. The slim humanoid suit bulks out three times as big. The head is massive.. Like if Juggernaut became a Beetle.. His thrust ceases and he slams into the ground hard enough to crater it beneath him, sending tremors through the ground under his massive feet. Unfortunately.. his Aim is rather off.. or dead on.. depending on how you look at it. He lands squarely on one of the meatball men.. and.. well.. Have you ever seen a pot pie left in the microwave too long and it explodes? Bits of indescribable nastiness and gooy meat splatter everywhere around him decorating the tents and fleeing people in bit of calamari helper. "Oh, gross.. Did you have to land ON him, Khaji?" Jaime says in a voice that would make James Earl Jones jealous. It all happens so fast, and yet for Bart, it's kind of like slow-motion. (But then, mostly everything is. You get used to it.) First, he's grinning and reaching for the bag of cotton candy, about to thank Superboy. Then, he's being pulled down to Rocket's level. Behind the amber-tinted goggles, Impulse's eyes go wide. "Did I just...? N-NO! I WENT BEFORE I LEFT HEADQUARTERS!" Then, blinking rapidly, he pauses to sniff the air. "W-wait. That smells more like... the school cafeteria dumpster after 'Sloppy Joe' day." And then all heck breaks loose. Well, okay. Two thirds of all heck break loose, and one third gets splattered like--well, actually, like about half the cafeteria trays inevitably do on "Sloppy Joe" day. The quite-flattened alien still wriggles, seemingly trying to speak, while its two compatriots stare at Blue Beetle. "''--What!--''" The one on the left sputters. "''--Isn't that a Reach warrior?--''" "''--Irrelevant! The Reach taste terrible!--''" Looking to Superboy, Impulse says, "I call crowd control! You get to deal with the stinky meatloaf trip--uh, twins!" And with a sudden *ZWIP!*, he vanishes from view, beginning to clear away the innocent bystanders, starting with the children and elderly. Meanwhile, one of the aliens manages to bring its weapon to bear on Blue Beetle, firing off a volley of wild, oddly mustard-hued energy blasts at the armored hero! Rocket's confused look for what Impulse is spouting distracts him for a moment. But the running and the screaming and the pants soaking and/or filling sounds of terror get him motivated. As he releases the Speeedster and leaps into the air and there's a blast of flames from his so-called 'Rocket Skates'. Ok, they're not really rockets or skates. But that's what they're called. It's like how Tony Stark flies... but with less bobbing and weaving from all the booze before hand. Also, thankfully Impulse is a speedster or he'd get a lil singed from them as Rocket takes off. Huh... You don't see that everyday..... a flying Raccoon. "Cosmo... I might need one of my bigger guns. Center passport on my position!" He calls out to nobody but the comm-unit/passport bracelet on his wrist. "COSMO! Quit licking yourself, eating your alpo, or whatever the flark you do when you don't take my calls!" Rocket growls a lil and flys towards the danger... opening fire upon them with his chromed blasters. He's your normal shoot first ask questions later kinda raccoon. "Dude..." Conner groans when he hears Bart's rambling, resisting the urge to facepalm. No need to break his sunglasses again. The impact Beetle prompts Superboy to quickly strengthen his TTK barrier to avoid getting any meaty slop on himself. His eyes narrow as Bart zips off though. "Oh, he is go gonna get it later...super-noogies," he mutters, taking of his sunglasses and stuffing them in his coat. The raccoon guy suddenly going Rocket gets a moment's pause and Superboy glances down at the hot dog he dropped as if wondering if its causing hallucinations. "Should have just stayed on the beach," he says, flying forwards. The gun that's shooting at Darth Buggernaut seems like a pretty worrisome thing so Superboy's flying at it with both fists outstretched. He's aiming to crash right through it to wreck it. So here's the deal. Daredevil is facing off against a bunch of meat aliens with ray guns with a pair of batons. It's a damn good thing he doesn't scare easy because nobody would fault him for seeing the flaws in this plan. Then someone lands on one of the flame broiled badguys and renders it void beneath the heavy boots of some sort of huge suit.. The inadequacy of his armaments is suddenly most readily apparent and absolutely not lost on the Devil who, to his credit, rolls his batons over his hands expertly and rushes at the nearest of the mammoth beef tips. The shouting of hundreds, if not thousands, of people is a little disorienting, to say the least, but it is painting a rather interesting picture for Matt behind his dishrag mask. Subtle variations in the displaced air around Blue Beetles behemoth boot illuminate the reality of the monsters he's actually facing... and also provide a hard point from which the Daredevil can strike. His foot plants just behind Beetles armored knee and sours over the top of his head in a corkscrewing twist. One of his batons leaves his hand at the apex of his twist and slams right into the business end of the last remaining ray gun so as to have it pointing towards the ground where it, at the very least, will not be an immediate problem for the assemblage of heroes engaged in a food fight. Touching down just long enough to roll backwards and back behind what Matt is almost certain is a Raccoon shooting chrome pistols at gigantic balls of hamburger. Now, if everyone else thinks these things smell horrible... this stink is never coming out. It is permanently ingrained in Matt's psychi. He's strongly regretting not going vegan back in college when his 'then' girlfriend decided meat was murder. Be damned if she wasn't right... Well this is going well.. Alien invasion... leaping ninja's.. and flying.. Kryptonians? "What's a kryptonian?" Jaime rumbles from beneath his Buggernaut armor. But alien superhero's aside. He turns at the drawn weapons, only to have them smashed aside. "Thank's Fella's." He rumbles, that Sexy James Earl Jones voice rumbling before he levels two Keg size arms at the meatball men. Plasma leaking slowly from the twin cannons whirring slowly. "Mine are bigger." He says and grins. Slowly.. It's creepy really.. a face that wide slowly stretching into a grin. The Groundbeefians--well, it could be what they're called--seem totally flummoxed by this sudden onslaught. One finds himself disarmed by a rampaging Superboy, the next by a rampaging (and, though it be not known, blind) ninja. They'd probably retaliate more swiftly, except Rocket's pelting them with plasma blasters. And a scent uncomfortably reminiscent of frying hamburgers begins to fill the air. "''--Waugh! They have death rays!--''" cries one, backing away from Hobodevil in terror. "''--Insufficient forces! The food is fighting back! That's not supposed to happen!--''" It raises two tentacles and says in broken English, "Beseechings! We are beg parley!" Meanwhile, Impulse swiftly clears the vicinity of innocent bystanders. Rocket's head snaps around so fast that it likely gave him minor whiplash, glaring daggers at Blue Beetle. Did he just.... talk smack about he size of Rocket's blasters. Okay, the appetizer of ground beef aliens can wait... this is a measuring contest. And you never throw down with someone with a Napoleon Complex. Or is it... you don't go up against a Shi'ar Warrior when Death is on the Line? Either way! "HEY! BLUE BUG." He itches behind his ear as he flies up into Blue Beetle's face. "You haven't even seen big. Those things your packing are just flarking toys." Rocket is steamed. And starts swearing in an alien language into his communit. Which then turns back into basic. "GROOT! Gooddamn it Groot! Get off your wooden backside and grab my gun... the big one! I don't care if you're having a soil rejuvination spa." He starts flying in lil agitated circles. "Don't you hang up on me. Groot!" He lands and starts pacing and muttering to himself. Superboy loops up and rolls in the air, preparing to come around for another pass. "Good one, Blue guy!" he calls down, overhearing Blue Beetle's remark. "But I'm the biggest gun around here," he laughs, taking a deep breath. Heat vision will probably make more of that nasty smell so he's thinking a little freezer burn is in order. Then the tentacle thing is asking to parley. He sputters a little, no freeze breath. "These things are pirates?!" he asks no one in particular. Shaking his head quickly, he points at the beseecher. "What is it? And for the record, no one here is food." Suddenly an idea springs to mind and Daredevil turns towards the Big Burger Shack. Behind a rabid gun wilding Raccoon that just called down some gigantic weapon that would probably make Tony Stark go googly eyed he has a moment to actually concentrate. To seperate screams of hundreds of terrified people and the stomping of their feet as they rampage down the boardwalk. The smell of the creatures now befallen them practically outline their grotesque nature, tentacles writhing through the air adding small vibrations and air displacement like a road map in front of him. He needn't open his eyes to "see" anything and it would do him little good even if he did. Instead he walks purposefully towards the unarmed meatmen and snatches up his baton, then steps back so the others can engage the monsters... Matt, instead, turns towards the distant crowd and listens intently. Focusing until he finds a single individual amongst them with a very distinct rhythmic thud of a heart pounding in a mixture of adrenaline and concern. Like a telescopic lens, he zeroes in on his friend and watches him mouth Matt, where the hell are you man? while looking back in the direction of the dinner dash. Good, he's safe. Facing towards the meat warriors, while Rocket circles in midair talking to his watch, "So help me god, if they say 'We come in peace,' I'm going to introduce them to New York sharks..." Jutting his chin towards the churning water beyond the attractions. One of the Okay-we're-not-calling-them-groundbeefians waves a tentacle back toward the portal inside the tent. "We prefer food of speed and convenience! You are fight back, and we not want fights!" It gestures between itself and its partners, including the splattered one. "We gather, not hunt. Food should not fight back. Let us go! We warn others not come here. Too dangerous!" The other alien begins scraping up the remains of its compatriot, which somehow still seems to be alive. "''--Earthlings are supposed to be easy harvesting,--''" it complains. "''--We must change the data entries for this dimension!--''" With a sudden crackle-blur of deceleration, Impulse reappears, carrying an absurdly large spatula. "Okay, the innocents aren't bystanders anymore! Is it time to flip the burger baddies yet!?" Rocket glances towards the aliens before they leave and spits angrily. "Just remember.... Earth isn't mostly harmless. It's also under the protection of Rocket Raccoon and the Guardians of the Galaxy." Don't tell Star-Lord he just claimed leader of the group in a round-about way. "Now get out of here." He starts firing in the air, cause he's already annoyed about how this day is going. From being called a 'KID' to having the size of his weaponry challenged. Of course, Blue Beetle has already departed. So there will be no measuring conest. "Groot... don't worry about it." And to proof that it's not just Rocket having a one-sided conversation with his wrist. "I... Am... Groot." Rocket sighs. "I know, I know... I'm sorry to have bugged you, Pal." Superboy crosses his arms, hovering in mid air. He listens quietly and then shakes his head. "Humanity isn't on the menu. So get outta here already," he says, pointing towards the portal. He does facepalm when Impulse reappears, flying down to land next to him. "Where did ya even get...dude...no. Just no." Angle on Impulse's sheepish shrug in the foreground as, in the background, the Probably-weren't-actually-called-groundbeefians beat a hasty retreat through their portal, which vanishes with a sudden *SNAP!* "Well, at least nobody got hurt!" }} Category:Log